Master of Puppets
by California smells funny
Summary: A need for control... A fight... A submission... Draco reflects on his relationship with his 'puppet'. Slash HPDM. Rated only for safety.


**Master of Puppets**

_A/N: I wrote this a while ago, but it's only been on my LiveJournal up to now. Basically, it's a monologue, inspired by the wonderful song 'Master of Puppets', originally by Metallica, though the version I was listening to is by Trivium. _

_Disclaimer etc: Characters, settings, and some events belong to J K Rowling, plot is mine. _

_Just to point out: It's Draco speaking to/about Harry. The rating is on account of slash and some adult themes._

_----_

Who would have expected this? I know I never did, and I'm pretty sure you didn't either.

It started by chance; you just happened to come across me when I was in one of _those_ moods, when nobody else would dare to cross me except you. You always did like a challenge, I suppose. So there I was, angsting over the latest thing to go wrong in my life, and you just did what came so naturally to you. You started getting to me, saying all those things that made me feel worse than ever, and this time I snapped. No wand, no magic, just me, you, fists and the floor. You fought back pretty well actually; it was far more difficult than I had expected.

Except then it wasn't a fight at all, not any more. I was lying over you, and I had your wrists pinned to the stone above your head. You were powerless, and for once that did something to me that stopped me wanting to knock you out. I wanted you awake for this.

When I kissed you, your eyes went so wide I thought I could get lost in them. But this was my situation, my control, and I wasn't about to let you or any piece of your damned physiognomy take that away from me. You sounded like a caged animal, and it was me making you sound like that – all me. I had you under my influence, and there was no way you were going to break free. I could tell that you feared me now in a way that you never had when our relationship was that of typical enemies, of insults, hexes and muttering with friends.

You even let me take you back to my room; hell, you even let me keep you there all night. You were mine by then, and I wasn't about to let you forget that. It was like having a slave, and when I could see pain in your face, and fear, it only drove me on. Ever since that first rejection, I had had dreams of subjugating you, of making you submit to me. As I matured, so did the dreams, until the only thing that would satisfy me was having you in the most complete way possible. And that night, I did.

There was a war on, but we didn't care. More to the point, I didn't care; you had no choice. You had no idea what I would do to you if you stopped being with me, but the position of us both was clear: you were obeying your master, and I was pulling your strings. You had to live to fulfil your purpose, and to live you had to do what I told you.

Then there was one night when I realised that things had changed. I was the same as ever, taking whatever I wanted from you, but you were different. At some time along the line, you had stopped being afraid, and it had stopped hurting you. You obeyed me because you wanted to; things were as good for you as they were for me.

I would not accept that. I was in charge here, and you weren't going to change that. So I changed instead; I wanted you crawling to me. I would only get what I wanted if you didn't. That was the way it worked.

All too soon it was time for the battle. The night before it happened was the first time since our fight that you hadn't come to me. Now you had other masters to submit to, another purpose to fill, a different person to be, rather than my toy.

I watched you that day; I saw your power, and I wondered how the hell I could have taken you the way I did. There was so much force in you; why had you let me act that way? You could have been in control from the start.

I never doubted that you would win; why else would I have changed sides before the battle? All the time you were fighting, I was afraid, but not for your life. I was afraid, for the first time, about what would happen to us. After this, there was no way I could be the same with you. There was no reason why a saviour would want to be the puppet of a defector.

But the night after the battle was over, you still came to me. I know because I was hiding from you. I saw you arrive at my room, knock on my door, walk in, look for me, and leave. I just couldn't go on the same way as before. I had changed, my feelings had changed, and there was no way you or anyone else could have guessed how.

You kept coming back though, and there is only so long I can hide from you.

Tonight there is a knock on the door and, sitting on the bed, I call out: "Yes."

The door swings open and shut behind you as you walk in, cloak swirling around you. You drop it on the floor and stand there, staring at me. "Where were you?"

I shrug. "Around."

Crossing to the bed, you sit down beside me. There is something new in your face, and I feel a sharp cold sensation in my chest. Then you smile, and it is one I have seen in the mirror for years. The cold disappears, and heat begins to pool in my stomach, sliding lower as you point your wand at the lamp and the room goes dark. There is still a little light filtering through from the false windows, but as you take a striped tie from your pocket and smooth it straight, the light is not enough to show the colours. It seems that a lot of boundaries are getting blurred tonight; moving closer, you flip the tie neatly over my head, using it to pull me up against you.

It looks like tonight, you're pulling my strings, master.

----

_A/N: Please review; I need cheering up, lots of stuff is going wrong at the moment!_


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